


A Storm on the Sea

by attic_gremlin



Series: Four Weeks of Four 2020 [2]
Category: The Legend of Zelda & Related Fandoms
Genre: Anger, Anger Management, Angst, Blue Character Study, Gen, Linked Universe (Legend of Zelda), LinkedUniverse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-20
Updated: 2020-07-20
Packaged: 2021-03-04 18:20:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,413
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25410766
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/attic_gremlin/pseuds/attic_gremlin
Summary: Blue has a temper; but he doesn't let it control him.
Series: Four Weeks of Four 2020 [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1840435
Comments: 10
Kudos: 142





	A Storm on the Sea

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Blue Week! It's still FWoF and I'm coming in right under the wire this time, just 2 hours to spare! This one fought me a little, Blue isn't one I've thought a whole lot about but I did have Some Thoughts about him. I really dislike when Hotheaded characters aren't given room to grow and develop healthy coping mechanisms for their anger so I thought I'd try to fix that. I don't personally struggle with anger issues but I do struggle with Overstimulation which can cause me to lash out at others, so I used that experience as my main guidepoint. I hope it still holds true. Enjoy!

Four had been minding his own business, reading a book under a tree. A fresh, cool, river ran nearby, and the fresh breeze that carried mist from its surface was facing just the right direction to keep Four cool. There was a familiar pressure behind his eyes, but he wasn’t quite in desperate need to split just yet-- he wanted to finish this book first. The book in question was a textbook that Sky had lent him, a collection of sword techniques from the academy on Skyloft. Many of them Four had never seen before, and he was especially interested in a finishing move called the Fatal Blow. Alongside the description was a series of diagrams demonstrating the move. He leaned in close to better see the stance of the drawn figure and--

“CANNONBALL!”

One moment, Four was scrutinizing the drawings, and the next he and the illustration were utterly soaked through.

Four gasped and turned to his right, where the water had come from. Wild was treading water in the middle of the nearby river, looking horrified and apologetic.

“Four! I didn’t see you there, I’m so--”

Four tried to reply. “It’s--”

He couldn’t continue. What was it? Was it fine? It was just an accident, right? But, it wasn’t even Four’s book, how is he supposed to know if it’s fine or not? Is there another copy of this book anywhere? Is the damage irreparable, or even that bad? 

A headache exploded behind Four’s temples. He visibly winced and put a hand to his eyes. He waved Wild off and stumbled back to camp with a groan. He needed his sword. 

As soon as his fingers wrapped around the familiar hilt of the Four Sword, his headache eased. When he held it skyward-- reminiscent of the skyward strike in Sky’s book, he thought, and his head pulsed --the pain eased entirely and  _ he  _ became  _ they _ . 

Vio still had the book clutched to his chest. He drew it out to examine the damage. Red glanced around for Sky. If he was here, he should be involved; it was his book, after all, they couldn’t keep it a secret. Green glanced at Blue, waiting for his reaction.

Blue was silent, staring at the ground. There was a storm in his eyes. 

Then, suddenly, he moved. Stiffly, arms locked to his sides, he took a step back. His breaths were short and agitated. With an authoritative look at Green and a sudden heel-turn, he fled into the nearby woods.

He needed to be alone.

The deeper into the trees he got, the more furious the storm inside him grew. He stalked through the woods, pulling his hair and growling with rage. His hands itched to hold a sword, to hack at something-- a tree, a monster, anything. He came to a sudden stop and squeezed his eyes shut, falling to his knees. His eyes and throat and lungs  _ burned _ , his breaths heaving and growing ever shorter, but his heart was frozen with icy rage.

Blue was aware of his temper. He knew it could get out of hand, especially without one of his brothers there to temper-- _ hah!--  _ his wrath. 

When they’d first split, he’d really been too busy to think about it. He had used it, in fact-- it had come in handy to protect his brothers. And if, while protecting them, he got a few injuries? Well, anger sure helped keep the lid screwed down tight on his pain. If he was cranky all the time, then who would ever notice whether that crankiness came from the pain of an injury or just from his terrible personality? It wasn’t ideal, he knew that, but they’d been in less than ideal circumstances. 

However, they weren’t in those circumstances anymore. They’d won, freed Zelda (and then freed her again) and now they were free to live their lives in peace-- 

except of course they weren’t. Blue didn’t know why he’d expected anything less than a fourth adventure. This time, though, they had company. They had to keep up appearances, and that meant no splitting. He hadn’t exactly been conscious inside Four’s head all that time, but when he finally got out he was definitely stiff. It had been so long, it was almost unfamiliar to be himself again. The turbulent storm in his belly, the constant rage-- Four didn’t experience it. For Four, it only reared it’s ugly head when it was marginally appropriate, and even then it didn’t control him. 

Blue faced it every moment of every day. It took all his willpower to refuse such an enormous part of himself, and it had built up during his time relegated to Four’s head. The raging typhoon ran through his heart and down to the tips of his toes. Its lightning arced down to the ends of his fingers, itching to draw his sword; it reached up to his head to tint his vision red. It drove him; and once, he’d loved it. It felt something like power and safety. He’d been drunk on it-- people did what he wanted because they knew he could make them, they listened and obeyed out of respect for his strength. The storm, the  _ power, _ felt almost brand-new again, and  _ by Din, _ it would be so easy to fall back onto it. To not fight back, to put on the persona of “the angry one” again. No one would bother him, or pry into his secrets, he would be alone with his thoughts just like--

_ No! _ He thought. He squashed down that impulse with a long, deep, breath. He drew in for four seconds, held for two, and let it out for eight. He would  _ not _ fall back into old habits. Another breath. He wouldn’t let it control him. Another. He was different now. One more. He didn’t need to put up those walls anymore-- these were people he could trust. He clenched his fists and squeezed the raging tempest in his belly into a mere summer shower. He forced his body to relax.

The storm inside him calmed to a drizzle. It was the best he was going to get; he knew from experience. He opened his eyes and stood. With one final deep breath, he began the trek back towards camp. 

When he broke through the treeline, Wild was already there. His shoulders hung heavy with guilt, but he was talking with the other colors, who seemed to be reassuring him. Legend saw Blue emerge from the forest. Blue could see a glimmer of something like understanding in the way he held his eyes. He dismissed a spark of lightning in his heart at the implication of pity; Legend was a hothead, too. Maybe he really did understand. 

Blue made his way over to Wild. It wasn’t until he was within arms reach that Wild seemed to notice him, absorbed as he was in his own self-pity. He turned to Blue with wide cerulean eyes. 

“Oh, uh, Blue!” He began. “Listen, I’m really--”

Blue held up a hand, effectively cutting short Wild’s apology. 

“Wild, it was an accident. I don’t blame you,”  _ I’m not mad, _ he wanted to say, but he knew it wasn’t true. He  _ was _ mad. It just wasn’t all he was. “Just be more aware next time, okay?”

Wild nodded furiously, his head flinging water like a shaking dog. Blue nodded curtly in return and promptly walked away. One of his brothers gave an excuse about how “that’s just how he is,” and tension seeped back into Blue’s shoulders. Six months ago, he wouldn’t have been so civil. 

He strode over to the campfire and dropped to the ground a few feet away from where Legend sat sharpening a utility knife. 

Silence reigned for several moments until Legend suddenly spoke. 

“I’d have chewed him out for that,” he said, not looking up from the blade in his hand.

Blue said nothing. 

Legend put the knife away and met Blue’s eyes. 

“I hope someday I can get where you are,” he said. Then, he stood and walked away.

Blue stared at his back as he left. The last tendrils of storm clouds still hovering over his heart suddenly died out and dissipated. He looked down at his clenched fist and watched his fingers slowly loosen.

He took a deep breath-- in for four, hold for two, out for eight --and for the first time in a long time, the breath came to him naturally. 

**Author's Note:**

> P.S. this work is now part of a series, if you don't want to miss the next two installments in my FWoF series be sure to subscribe to the series!


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